


the man in the coat

by Nara_stories



Series: Red Coats [1]
Category: Lord John Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothing Kink, Employer/Employee relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Uniform Kink, caught masturbating, specifically a red coat...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nara_stories/pseuds/Nara_stories
Summary: Tom Byrd, as a valet, has a great appreciation for Lord John's coat.Tom didn’t know what it was about the coat that fascinated him. Perhaps it was the wool, so much finer than any material he felt before becoming valet to His Lordship. Perhaps it was the scarlet colour, so bold and fearless. Or perhaps it was only the fact that it was Lord John’s.
Relationships: Tom Byrd/Lord John Grey
Series: Red Coats [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062866
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33
Collections: Lord John Grey Cocoa and Kink 2020





	the man in the coat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJG Cocoa & Kink Event hosted by the Lord John Grey Reading Nook

Tom didn’t know what it was about the coat that fascinated him. Perhaps it was the wool, so much finer than any material he felt before becoming valet to His Lordship. Perhaps it was the scarlet colour, so bold and fearless. Or perhaps it was only the fact that it was Lord John’s.

There was secret power to that coat. He could see it in the way Lord John would immediately put his shoulders back as Tom helped him slip into it, almost as if he became another person. Not unrecognizable, but a different side of him stepping forward. Tom knew Lord John Grey to be charming but prone to clumsiness and wandering thoughts. When he donned the coat, he immediately became Major Grey. That man was sharper, never cruel, but intense. Ready to do what needed to be done, not tolerating defiance. Kind, but far from harmless, and Tom caught himself wishing he could spend more time with that man in the coat, not just the garment itself.

And so the coat wasn’t only Lord John’s, it was a part of him, and Tom took care of it accordingly. He brushed the fine broadcloth down after each use, rubbed the gold lace with a bit of stale bread and polished the intricate silver buttons until they sparkled.

Of course, Lord John had multiple uniform coats, but the one currently laid out on the back of the sofa was the newest, made following the latest fashion. Tom reverently stroked along the narrow decoration line on the outside of the sleeve, a peculiarity of the 47th. Everything on this coat was impeccably done, from the trimmings to the buttons and it fit Lord John’s figure like a glove.

Tom brushed his palm lightly across the wool. It was a deep crimson, dyed with carmine, not with the cheap stuff. The material was soft, but tightly woven, to protect its wearer from rough weather. Tom let out a wistful sigh. Laid out like this he could almost imagine it were Lord John’s broad shoulders holding the garment up.

However, Lord John wasn’t in the room, but away at a diner party. This meant that Tom could allow himself some liberties he couldn’t with his master in the room. He bent his head very slowly and touched his cheek to the coat. A warm thrill ran through his body and he closed his eyes. The garment smelled faintly of gunpowder, horsehair and tobacco. While Tom always made sure that Lord John’s clothes were properly laundered, one simply didn’t wash wool if not absolutely necessary. Tom liked the idea that the coat preserved the essence of Lord John’s adventures.

He sighed and turned his head, nuzzling into the collar of the coat. Here he could detect hints of Lord John’s cologne – bay leaves and lemon verbena – mixed with the lingering musk of his sweat. He felt a moan bubbling out of his throat and he pressed his mouth to the fabric to stifle it. Just thinking about Lord John made him feel intoxicated. The material was rough against the sensitive skin of his lips and he rubbed them back and forth until they tingled.

He had been harbouring a secret desire for his employer for a long time, keeping it carefully hidden. It was a terribly improper feeling, but he couldn’t make it go away. On nights like this, when he was alone, he indulged himself in his fantasies, going as far as to touch himself thinking about Lord John.

Now a wicked thought took root in his head. What if he did it here, just hiding his face in the coat? His blood started racing at the mere thought. It would probably be the closest he could get to Lord John and he would make sure not to leave any mess. No one would know.

He stepped closer, letting the coat slide against his body through his clothes. There was hardly any friction but he felt himself starting to harden just from the thought that this was Lord John’s coat. He burrowed his head further into the creases of the scarlet fabric. It comforted and aroused him at the same time.

After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up one of the sleeves and pressed it against the side of his neck. He imagined Lord John’s hand touching him, broad palm, callused from sword fighting cradling his throat. He sighed. What he wouldn’t do to feel his intentional touch like this, even just once.

There was no chance Lord John wanted him this way. Oh, he liked his men, Tom knew that, which somehow made his longing even worse. From what he gathered, Lord John liked big and muscular men, and Tom was all skin and bones. Even if he wasn’t his valet, Lord John would never look at him with desire.

He pushed the gloomy thought away and concentrated on the feeling of the fabric against his skin. He pulled the end of the sleeve slowly downwards across his chest, the cold, silver gilded buttons catching his nipples through his shirt. He hissed and pressed harder.

He moved the sleeve even further down and pressed it to where his prick was straining against his breeches, imagining Lord John’s strong hand gripping him through his trousers. He had to bite his bottom lip not to cry out. He rolled his hips. Lord John was so delightfully strong, but also gentle. He could take Tom apart piece by piece if he wanted to.

He used his other hand to open his breeches, carefully holding the cuff away from his leaking member. He touched himself then and his knees almost buckled from the sheer relief washing over him. 

Lord John could hold him up with an arm around his waist. Yes, he could do that. Tom leaned on the sofa and clumsily wrapped the sleeve around his own waist. With the plush material around him and with Lord John’s smell in his nose he could almost imagine it was his master pushing him towards the edge. The room slowly melted away from his mind as he lost himself in the image he conjured up, his fist moving with increasing urgency.

“Tom?”

The puzzled tone of Lord John’s voice didn’t fit in with the fantasy, and it took Tom a moment to realize, he didn’t imagine it. His eyes flew open. Lord John was standing in the door with a confused expression on his face. With the sofa between them, Lord John wasn’t able to see what he was doing, but could still see Tom leaning awkwardly on the furniture, right on top of his coat. Dread and shame flooded his chest and he quickly pushed himself upright.

“Me—me lord, you’re back early,” he stuttered out dumbly.

“Yes,” a small crease appeared between Lord John’s eyebrows that Tom normally found charming, “the company was quite terrible. Are you all right?”

There was genuine concern in Lord John’s voice and he came closer with purpose. Tom was so frozen by shock, he didn’t even have the presence of mind to do his breeches back up. He quickly let go of the sleeve of the coat and covered himself.

“Yes! Yes, me lord, everything is fine,” he said in a panicked voice that did not sound too reassuring even to his own ears. “I—I was just tired. I almost fell asleep, I think it’s best if I retire if you don’t mind.”

Maybe if he turned his back quickly, he would be able to get out of the room before Lord John realized what he was doing.

He didn’t get to escape. Lord John rounded the sofa carefully, practically cornering him. He raised one of his elegant eyebrows, gaze flickering to the coat, then to Tom’s burning face, and then down. Tom gulped and willed the ground to swallow him.

Lord John didn't say anything, just reached out and put two fingers on Tom's wrist with a light touch. He resisted for a moment, but he was always so helpless when it came to Lord John. He screwed his eyes shut and let him push his hand away. 

There would be no question about what he was doing now. He felt more exposed than if he stood naked in the middle of the room.

When the silence became unbearable, he creaked an eye open to look at Lord John’s face. His Lordship had both eyebrows raised now and he was starting at him. Tom followed his gaze down towards his own crotch. He was still hard, the head of his prick peeking out from the flap of his breeches, red and glistening at the tip.

His hand twitched, and Lord John’s fingers curled around his wrist, preventing him from covering himself again. His grip was still light, Tom could easily break it and make a run for it, but just the feeling of his warm fingers on his skin made him shiver, and it was even worth the mortification he was feeling when his traitorous prick twitched at the sensation.

Tom watched, mesmerized as Lord John absent-mindedly licked his lips, then finally looked up.

“With my coat...?” he asked, not displaying his usual eloquence. Tom couldn’t place the tone of his voice.

“I wasn’t going to—” he hurried to explain as he finally pulled his hand out of Lord John’s hold and tucked himself back into his trousers. Lord John cut him off.

“Were you thinking of me?”

Tom froze, guilt probably written all over his face. There was no point in lying. At the same time, it was so hard to admit it, after taking so much care to hide it. He slowly nodded.

“I’m so sorry, me lord, please forgive me,” he pleaded, voice cracking pitifully. He bent his head down and blinked at his shoes, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He would not survive it if Lord John sent him away because of this. His heart beat frantically in his chest and it was suddenly hard to get air into his lungs. Did he ruin everything?

There was a gentle hand around his jaw, and Lord John tilted his head up.

“I’m not mad, Tom.”

The air left him in a rush and he suddenly was able to breathe again. Lord John was looking at him openly, without anger and Tom blinked back at him, surprised at how close those blue eyes were.

Then, Lord John smiled at him.  
“I’m here now, isn’t this better?”

Tom felt desperate hope unfurling in his chest. He whimpered and Lord John let out a quiet huff of laughter, touching their foreheads together.  
“I never thought you would want this. You do want this?” he asked.

Tom licked his lips. It wasn’t even a question.  
“More than anything, me lord.”

Lord John traced his bottom lip with his thumb, and Tom instinctively sucked the tip of it into his mouth. Lord John growled and before Tom could blink he found himself pressed against the sofa, with Lord John’s lips on his own.

It was like being dropped from a dizzying height. Tom’s belly was doing all sorts of funny flips. Lord John kissed him with such hunger that left no room for doubt whether he was truly desiring Tom. He pushed a thigh between Tom’s, bringing their bodies flush together, hands cradling his face. Tom rocked his hips helplessly and shivered when he felt Lord John’s hardness press against his hip.

He could feel Lord John’s smile on his lips a second before he broke the kiss. When he pulled back there was a playful glint in his eyes.  
“So, you like my coat, Tom?”  
Tom hummed, staring at him. He would have agreed to anything at that moment.  
Lord John’s smile widened affectionately as if he knew that.  
“I want to see it on you,” he said. “I want to see you in nothing but my coat.”

Tom felt another rush of arousal at the suggestion. Lord John’s fingertips drew patterns across his cheeks, then trailed down onto his neck, tugging lightly at his stock.  
“Take these off?”  
It sounded more like a request than an order, but Tom complied as if it were one.

Lord John turned away and bolted the door. By the time he turned back, Tom was down to his socks and shirt. He looked at Lord John for confirmation.  
“All of them,” he said calmly. Tom felt goosebumps break out on his skin. That was more like an order, and perhaps he liked that more than he should have.

He pushed down his socks first, then he lifted his shirt over his head, completely baring himself. Lord John’s gaze swept lazily over him and whatever Tom thought about his body his prick very much liked the attention. He wrapped his hand around himself, squeezing before the feeling could overwhelm him. When Lord John looked up, his eyes were dark, pupils were blown wide.

He crossed the room with two purposeful steps and stopped before Tom, so close that he could feel the heat radiating off his body. He shrugged out of his blue coat he wore to the dinner party, but otherwise remained fully clothed. Then, he reached for the red one.

He held it out for Tom, just like Tom usually did for him. Tom gulped and turned around, hyper-aware of his nakedness. He found the armholes with his hands and Lord John slid the garment onto his shoulders. It had a comfortable weight to it, and since it was made to Lord John’s proportions it was slightly big on him. Just a bit too wide in the shoulders and the sleeves were falling onto his fingers so that Tom felt completely enveloped in the material. He slowly turned back around, resisting the urge to hold the coat closed. Lord John’s eyes were hungry, taking him in, and there was a deep satisfaction in his voice when he spoke.

“My coat, and my Tom. If I knew you liked it so much, I would have asked you to keep it warm for me.” He trailed a finger across the material then on Tom’s chest where it was exposed between the two flaps. “Just like this, with your own body.”

He crowded Tom against the armchair and slid his hands onto his waist under the coat, then leaned in and kissed him. His movements were far from tentative, but still slow as if he were savouring each touch.

Tom realized he was getting to see a third side of him, the lover. Just the thought warmed him through to the tips of his fingers. He kissed back, tentatively flicking a tongue into Lord John’s mouth. Lord John let him, then kissed back with renewed vigour, breaking off with a nip to his lips, only to trail down kisses on his neck. He moved his hand to wrap a warm and sure palm around his hardness while he sucked a bruise over Tom’s collarbone. Tom moaned, sure that he wasn’t going to last, but not being able to do much about it.

Lord John, however, took his hand away and pushed him down onto the sofa. Tom’s legs fell open naturally. Lord John put a knee between them and leaned down, rubbing their bodies together.

His hands left his skin for a moment, and Tom felt him fumbling with something on the outside of the coat. After a moment he realized he was rummaging through the pockets, and he triumphantly came up with a vial of oil.

Tom let Lord John pull him forward, and push his legs further apart, so that one lay over the back of the sofa, and one around Lord John’s waist. He leaned back on the chair and felt a warm, slippery touch between his legs. It was unfamiliar, but Tom was too far gone to be frightened. Lord John moved his hand even further back and pushed the skirt of the coat to the side when it got in the way.

He leaned onto his elbow draping himself over Tom and kissed him, slow and deep, while his finger touched him where no one had before – and then it was inside and Tom let out a gasp of shock. He felt like a butterfly pinned to a board and perhaps the flaps of red coat were his wings, bold and flashy like flowers, rucking up around his ears. He moaned deliriously, turning his head into the soft, navy blue silk of the lining.  
The pressure increased and Tom hissed in pain, even though he didn’t try to move away. Lord John noticed his discomfort, pulled back and frowned.  
“Tom, have you ever…?” he didn’t say it out loud, and Tom found it a bit funny, regarding the fact that his fingers – there must have been two of them by now – were still in him.

“No,” he admitted in a shaky voice, “but—“ Lord John started to pull back and Tom scrambled to lock his ankles behind him, to keep him in place, because even with the pain it felt too good to stop. He wrapped his arms around him too and rolled his hips. “Please. You can,” he babbled. “I want you to. Yours, remember?”

Lord John smiled then and kissed him again.  
“How could I forget?”  
He pushed his fingers back in deep and Tom cried out, torn between pleasure and pain, half of his muscles wanting to melt and the other half tense up.

He felt Lord John pouring more oil down between his legs and he vaguely thought they must have gotten some of it on the coat by now, but the thought floated away as another finger breached him. He felt like it barely fit and he had to bite his bottom lip not to cry out.

“It will be better soon,” Lord John murmured into his ear. “I promise I will make it feel good for you.”

He was nothing if not a man of his words and soon he coerced Tom’s body into opening up and found a secret spot that made him see stars. He pulled his fingers away then, didn’t bother undressing, only opened his flies. Tom watched him spread oil over himself, marvelling at the fact that he didn’t want anything as much in his life as he wanted to feel it inside of him.

Luckily, that was exactly what Lord John did, lining himself up and pushing in with one slow motion. Tom threw his head back and moaned. The feeling threatened to overwhelm him on the spot. He didn’t know how he had lived without this.

Lord John kissed him again and started to move. Tom held on for dear life but had no hopes for lasting, not when Lord John sneaked an arm between their bodies and wrapped a hand around him, and it was better than any fantasy. He came with a cry, headless of the mess he was making, staring into Lord John’s eyes who followed him after a handful of hard thrusts.

They ended up in a tangled heap in the sofa that was nowhere near big enough for two grown men. Tom thought there was no way they didn’t make a mess out of the coat. Lord John chuckled and Tom realized he spoke that out loud.

Lord John carded his fingers through his hair.  
“It doesn’t matter. I'll be thinking about this every time I wear that coat now.” He sighed with deep contentment. “It was entirely worth a few unexplainable stains.”


End file.
